


Fighting It

by SkadiSprawl (LadyByakko)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyByakko/pseuds/SkadiSprawl
Summary: When she joins SHIELD, the first thing she does is figure out what they want from her.





	Fighting It

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be longer, but I kind of lost steam part way through. I may continue it at some point, if inspiration strikes!

When she joins SHIELD, the first thing she does is figure out what they want from her.

It's not hard. The agent in charge of assessing her skills and training her in SHIELD regulations watches her hands and the tilt of her shoulders, deliberately avoiding even a glance at her breasts, but occasionally staring at her crotch. He doesn't look her in the eye when he speaks, orders her about like a soldier (even though he knows she's never been one), and never calls her by name. 

The hints would be obvious even if she were an idiot: they want a man. One who can smile sweetly and looks like a fragile female, but is pure testosterone underneath. In this, they are not so different from the Red Room as they claimed.

It's easy to give them what they want. They want a man, so she'll be one. They want a soldier, so she'll be one. She is used to being one thing on the surface and another underneath, and hiding her true self under layers and layers of what other people want from her. Sometimes the acting chafes, but she shoves the feeling down under the layers of other people and ignores it.

She is strong. She is masculine. She is one of the boys, and no one around her will ever know any different.

\---

"You gonna run on that treadmill all day, Nat, or you gonna shower and come to lunch at some point?"

Natasha pulls one earbud out, pausing the song at the same time. She doesn't stop running even as she glances over to where Clint is lounging against a stationary bike. He's wearing his favorite bright purple workout shirt, but she can tell he hasn't been exercising.

"You could go without me, you know," she reminds him. She makes a point to mention this fact periodically, sure that one day the archer will give up on tracking her down and sitting with her for every meal. It's been over two months since he recruited her, and as it hasn't happened yet.

Clint shrugs. "I could, but I don't wanna. Besides, do you know how hard it is to choke down cafeteria food while staring at one of these guys' ugly mugs?" He gestures to the other probationary agents in the gym and shudders dramatically. 

"Given that I have to look at you every time I eat, yes. Yes I do." She doesn't look at him, but she knows he's giving her his most dramatic pout. The urge to smile creeps up on her, but she ignores it and turns off the treadmill. She finds herself battling that urge a lot, since she came here.

The walk to the locker room is short, but Clint manages to fill it with mundane chatter anyway. It distracts her, which is why she doesn't think about where she's going until it stops abruptly.

"Uh, Nat?"

"Yes?"

"Why are we in the men's locker room?"

Natasha pauses halfway through dialing the combination into her locker, a spike of panic tearing through her mind before she ruthlessly shoves it down. She finishes dialing in her combination and swings the locker open, deliberately avoiding Clint's gaze. She knew this was too good to last, she knew he'd find out eventually, but somehow the reality of this moment still hurts.

"I was given to understand that people with male genitalia are expected to use the men's locker room here," she says, voice carefully calm and neutral. 

There's a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sound of someone turning on a shower. At least they're alone for this, she thinks. At least none of the other prospies in her group are here to see this humiliation. Their taunting whispers had only just stopped, after she put the largest of the men in the hospital for calling her a "tranny faggot" when she beat his time on the obstacle course.

"Oh." Clint pauses. Natasha tries to behave normally, grabbing a towel and some shampoo, shutting her locker door, but still deliberately avoiding Clint's eyes. She suspects he's looking at her crotch, but even though she's killed men for less before, she can't seem to find the energy to care right now. At least the long, loose workout clothes given to all the prospective agents hide the details of her body.

When no more words seem forthcoming, she turns toward the showers. She makes it only two steps before Clint asks, "Wouldn't you rather use the women's, though?"

She nods, eyes fixed on a poster on the wall that reminds her to lock up her valuables.

"Well, let's go then. I'll help you carry your stuff."

It only takes a few moments for them to grab her few toiletries out of the locker and exit the locker room. The entrance to the women's is only a few feet away, but Natasha can see every one of her fellow prospies in the gym tracking their progress across the floor.

At the door, Clint shoves the duffel bag he'd been carrying into her arms and waves her through the door.

"I'll wait out here. Hurry up, though, 'cause I want to get to lunch before all the chocolate pudding is gone."

When she pauses, he places a hand in the small of her back and gives her a light but deliberate shove. "Pudding, Nat!" he repeats. "Go, go!"

The glint in his eye tells her that when she exits, he will probably have a bloody lip, and at least three of her fellow prospective agents will be headed to medical for convenient injuries. She finds that she doesn't mind the thought.

This time, when the urge to smile rises, she doesn't fight it.


End file.
